Well, last week’s appointment with the dreaded orthopaedic surgeon had pretty much the outcome I was expecting, no matter how hard I tried to fool myself. No more running until we sort out what it is that is causing my right ankle to be so unco-operative and frankly wobbly. I have an appointment for another ultrasound scan in around 4 weeks, and a referral letter to a specialist sports podiatrist. Meanwhile I am hors de combat although I may swim and cycle (which is why I now have a very bruised feeling backside!).
Meanwhile I tried watching the Great North Run on TV yesterday and was suprised at just how distressing it was to watch other people running when I’m not able to… I knew I was upset about it, but I hadn’t realised I felt that strongly about it. And just for good measure I actually dreamed about running last night – first time that’s ever happened to me! It was pretty strange really – it was winter in the French Alps and I was running in lovely dry conditions, everything feeling brilliant, until I rounded a corner into Combloux, a village I know really well, and suddenly everything was snowy, but it was OK because my running shoes clipped into some spare skis and I just kept going… What was all that about I wonder?!